


Awareness

by LRMatthews



Category: Death Note
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1436419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LRMatthews/pseuds/LRMatthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light has some lessons to teach L. Whether he wants to learn or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Sixpence None the Richer's "Breathe Your Name."
> 
> "Touch" is dub-con. Read accordingly.

“Where did you get that scar?”

L glances in the mirror to look indirectly at Light who is standing by the bed, towel-drying his hair. L’s own towel is wrapped around his waist, more out of habit than any pretense at modesty – after all, they’ve just showered together. It is a preferable method to taking it in turns while the other person has to stand outside the door and wait, arm dangling rather uncomfortably from the chain that binds L’s right wrist to Light’s left (said chain lying coiled on the bed at the moment).

For a little while L is silent, contemplating the reason behind Light’s question. Not the question itself, but its timing. They have been showering together for a few weeks now, and seen each other in various states of undress for quite a bit longer than that. Yet this is the first Light has ever mentioned the line that mars L’s back. It is a roughly diagonal mark, about ten inches long, running from the top of his right shoulder blade to the bottom of his left. Most of it is a shiny version of his normal skin tone although there are faint traces of purple-pink. Frankly, L forgets it is there most of the time, particularly as he isn’t generally in the habit of walking around shirtless or primping in front of mirrors.

Maybe it was out of some sense of respect for L’s privacy that Light hasn’t asked before – but if that were the case, then why ask now?

“I don’t know where it came from, Light. I have no memory of any events which may have caused it. For all I know, it has always been there.” He really _doesn’t_ remember where it had come from and, given how old it is and how smooth it has become, it’s difficult to tell if it had been a tear or a laceration, what instrument might have left the blemish. Not, for that matter, that he really cares.

Viewing the quandary as closed, L turns his attention back to the wardrobe to pull out his typical outfit of boxers, a pull-over and denims. He jerks and nearly drops them when he feels a finger whispering along the scar. Somehow Light has moved right behind him without drawing his notice. L chides himself internally – his awareness of Light’s movements has been significantly dulled by spending so much time with him. He will have to work to correct that. It wouldn’t do him much good to handcuff himself to his suspect if he is going to become so blasé about his presence. But in the meantime….

L angles his back and rolls his shoulders, a clear _hands-off_ sign while his eyes send the same message to Light’s through the full-length mirror attached to the wardrobe door.

“Please do not touch it, Light.” Light’s brows raise in mild concern as his hand drops.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” L looks away. “There is actually a lack of sensation in that area. It’s … disturbing. Unpleasant.”

“Ah. So _feeling_ is the problem.” Light’s fingers return, this time both hands tracing the outline of the mark, pressing more firmly, more forcefully than they had before.

Again L rolls his shoulders and shifts away, brows snapped together in irritation. “ _Light_ , I _said_ —” The words are cut off as his eyes meet Light’s again in the mirror. Nothing has changed exactly, but there is something glowing in those depths, something new and dangerous that has L frozen even when he wants to move the most. Light smiles ever-so-slightly and places his fingers on L’s back again, this time tracing the lines of his shoulder blades, moving up to the sweep of his neck, rustling under his damp hair. L shudders involuntarily as those fingers stroke his suddenly-sensitive nape.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Light speaks softly and his voice seems to seep into L’s mind, strengthening the paralyzing hold his eyes have on L’s body. “When you’re not used to being touched, when you’re so accustomed to hiding yourself, protecting yourself, keeping those shields in place all the time, it’s … unsettling to be this close to someone else.” His fingertips whisper down the line of L’s neck and across his shoulders, resting there, the palms seeming unbearably warm to L. “But it’s natural. Touching is the most basic human connection.” Light’s fingers slip down L’s arms to his hands, gently taking the clothes and placing them back in the wardrobe.

 _What are you doing? Stop._ L can’t find his voice; it seems to be trapped in the same spell that holds the rest of his body, leaving only his mind to protest in growing panic.  
Light’s hands return, grasping L’s, playing with his fingers – lightly stroking and intertwining the digits, flexing and straightening them, rubbing the smooth, short nails, tracing the lines of his palms. Then Light grips L’s hands and, rubbing his thumbs along the smooth, pale skin of the backs, raises and places them on the wardrobe door, palms lying along the edge of the mirror, just above eyelevel.

“So many things can be conveyed just by touch,” Light continues, slowly and softly drawing his fingertips back down L’s arms to his shoulders. L could lower his arms, twist away … he _could_ but he _can’t_. There’s still that look in Light’s eyes holding him and that voice and that touch…. L drops his head and closes his eyes, cutting off one source of captivation.

“Joy, fear, grief, anger, love, passion. All of these can be felt by a touch.” The hands slide over his shoulders, down and underneath, tracing his sides now. “Trust, too, Ryuuzaki.”

 _But I **don’t** trust you! I **don’t**!_ It hasn’t worked. In fact, it seems to be worse. Removing his sight has only heightened his awareness of Light’s voice, sensitized him even more to his touch. He is conscious with detached alarm that his breathing rhythm has changed – it is slightly faster and just a touch heavier as though he is under some kind of exertion. But he is, isn’t he? Just nothing like any he’s experienced before.

One of Light’s hands flattens over L’s lightly-defined abdomen while the other trails up his torso, fingers running along the lines of his ribs, breastbone, collarbone, up his throat to the side of his face. Light tucks some of L’s dark damp hair behind his ear so that he can bring his lips to it, just barely not touching. His body has moved closer now, too, L can feel the heat against his back.

“It’s alright,” Light whispers and the breathy reassurance sends an involuntary shudder through L. “It’s an easy lesson, one your body already knows. And I’ll teach the rest of you.” His lips brush against L’s ear and gooseflesh rises on the left side of his neck and down his arm. “See? Your body knows…. It wants what it’s been missing.”

 _ **It** might, but I **don’t**!_ It is an awful thing, L decides, to be betrayed by one’s own body. He has built himself to be strong, both physically and mentally, to rise to any challenge that might face him regardless of the form. But he has always known that his mind is his best and most well-honed tool, its will stronger than that of his body, able to ignore the messages of his corporeal self when needs be. Until now. His body’s whims and desires are fully in control now and what it wants is Light’s touch. _More_ of it.

 _It’s not right, it shouldn’t be, just let me **move**._ His inner protests go unheeded, both by Light and his flesh. Light’s lips are moving along his jaw, down the side of his neck, gently pressing and skimming, raising more gooseflesh. His hand has slid back down to L’s chest and is carefully caressing his skin in lazy circles. L’s heart is beginning to pick up pace and it seems to be pounding harder as well. Can Light feel it? L hopes not but he doesn’t see how he _couldn’t_.

Light’s thumb suddenly brushes over one of his nipples and even though the contact is light it sends a jolt through L, causing a gasp and a tiny jerk. His hands tighten on the wardrobe door and he dips his head further, trying to hide the flush he can feel heating his cheeks.

Light’s mouth leaves L’s shoulder and resumes its place against his ear. “Shhh,” he hushes, the exhale producing another shiver. “Just relax and enjoy it. Stop thinking. Just feel.”

 _I don’t **want** to enjoy it, I don’t **want** to stop thinking, and I don’t **need** to feel!_ But still, all he can do is try to keep his breathing even – and he’s failing at even that.

Light’s fingers return to L’s pec, circling his nipple in an ever-tightening spiral until they brush over it again. It’s softly but it sends another one of those jolts through L although he keeps from making any noise this time. However the urge to vocalize grows harder and harder to suppress as Light continues to assault the sensitive flesh. He is also nuzzling L’s neck now and using his tongue – L can feel the warm muscle tracing his pulse. And Light’s teeth … L cocks his head to the side the slightest bit as Light carefully nibbles at the base of his neck.

 _No, no no no no no!_ He didn’t mean to do that! He’s not supposed to be responding like this! He’s supposed to be resisting, pushing Light away, locking him up again if necessary. He’s supposed to be gaining control of the situation, not submitting to it. But that’s exactly what’s happening – he’s submitting to Light’s attentions. And worse, L realizes, he’s not just submitting, he’s beginning to draw pleasure from it. He’s becoming aroused.

 _No no no…._ The hand that has been resting on L’s abdomen dips down to where his towel is still wrapped around his narrow hips. Light’s fingers tease him, running along the edge of the fabric, sliding underneath just a little and then back up again.

“Just let yourself go. Let the sensations wash through you. Let your body go where it wants to. Let me take you there.”

 _No … please…._ Light’s hand gently plucks at the corner of the towel, releasing its hold, allowing it to slip inexorably to the floor. Leaving L naked as Light is behind him and he quails inside.

 _What are you going to do to me?_ Slowly, carefully, almost what L might call tenderly, Light slides his hand further down, through the thick patch of hair between his legs to curl his fingers around the partially-erect organ in its midst. L makes another of those reflexive sounds – he can’t even properly identify _what_ the noise is, only that it’s something he would never utter under ordinary circumstances and he wishes he hadn’t now. Light’s finger curl a little tighter and begin to move, coaxing forth a response L wasn’t entirely aware that he could give.

His grip tightens again on the wardrobe door, the cold edge of the mirror digging into his palms. Light takes another step closer and L can feel his arousal against the small of his back. L lets out another one of those despicable noises, something like a whimper.

“Don’t fight it,” Light murmurs. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe here.”

 _Safe?? How can you call this safe?_ His member has now become completely erect under Light’s hands and he begins stroking more firmly, occasionally using his thumb to stimulate the head. L is really trying in earnest not to make any noise but it’s becoming harder and harder….

The hand that had been on his chest, rubbing and lightly tweaking his nipples, moves up to his chin, lifting his face. Two fingers brush along his lower lip, drawing it out from between his teeth where he has it mildly clenched. The fingers take the place of his lip, pushing gently but insistently inside, opening his mouth. L’s breathing is entirely audible now, but he still keeps down the moans and groans that want to break forth.

“Let it out,” Light presses. “Let me hear you. I want to hear your voice.” L tamps down on the urge to comply for as long as he can but the feeling building in him from the friction of Light’s hand is too much and tiny gasps and moans begin to spill from his mouth around Light’s fingers. Light is now rubbing himself against L’s back and the cleft between his cheeks and again L wants to pull away – but he hasn’t been able to up to this point and even this unwanted contact is not enough to make it happen.

He can hear Light’s breath becoming heavier and quicker, starting to match his own rhythm as he continues to increase the pace of his stroking.

“Open … your eyes,” Light whispers in his ear. “Look at yourself.” Even more than anything so far, L _doesn’t_ want to do this … but of course he does and the vision draws a startled gasp from him.

 _That’s not me. I don’t know that person. That’s not me._ L has never seen _anyone_ looking like the person he now sees in the mirror, and certainly never himself. He looks … _debauched_. His face is flushed, his eyes heavily-lidded. His lips glisten with excess saliva as he pants around Light’s fingers. Though his hair is never exactly _orderly_ , at the moment it appears even more disheveled than usual. He is quivering and bobbing ever-so-slightly with Light’s movements and his own restrained thrusts.

And though he hates this foreign vision of himself, somehow it makes the feeling, the whole event, that much more intense. And Light’s eyes…. He hates this even more but the look in Light’s eyes acts like an accelerant on the fire centered in his groin. Everything tightens unbearably and then releases with explosive force and he cries out. Behind him, he is dimly aware that Light has increased his rutting – he stiffens with a groan and something warm hits L’s back.

They simply breathe for a few moments, L’s head back down, Light’s resting between his shoulder blades, his arms wrapped lightly around L’s waist (there is a stickiness on his hip now).

“Light.” It’s softly spoken, bewildered, maybe even lost.

“I know,” Light answers, his lips against the scar. Then he bends down and picks up the discarded towel, carefully wiping L off. When he is done, he tosses the cloth into the hamper and gently tugs L away from the wardrobe, pulling him toward the bed. “Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”

L climbs onto the bed and slips under the covers silently, curling onto his side, facing away from Light. He twitches a little but says nothing when Light takes his wrist to refasten the handcuff. Light flicks off the lights and then slides into bed as well, attaching his half of the chain.

L stares blindly into the dark, his mind attempting to work it all out but getting nowhere at all. _I was going to work tonight_ is all he thinks. He twitches again when fingers brush his back along the scar.

“Just go to sleep, Ryuuzaki. It’ll all be alright.”

 _How could it be?_ But that voice inside him has gotten very quiet now and L finds himself indeed slipping away into unconsciousness, suddenly exhausted. One thing, though, buries its way into his thoughts before they leave him for the night.

He knows Light is going to do it again. And L is going to let him.


	2. Scent

He is being trained, L realizes, like a dog. Specifically, one of Pavlov’s dogs. And it’s in a manner he never would have imagined.

After the … incident (there is nothing else L’s normally inventive mind can think to call it) L had found himself unable to articulate anything on the subject, even the all-important demand that Light never do it again. He also found himself, to his chagrin, rather wary around his suspect and reluctant living-mate. However, this was a short-lived period as Light did nothing to repeat his unwanted actions. Until now.

The shower has been a location of particular tension to L following The Incident but he has begun to let his guard down as Light has behaved himself so far. In fact, if he wasn’t so completely sure of his own state of mind, L might wonder if he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. However, he knows this is ridiculous – Light most certainly did do it and there is no way that will be the last of it. So L has been doing his utmost to both keep his back to Light while they clean themselves and still watch him intently. It helps that he’s rather flexible.

But still, he begins to relax more and more until he is nearly to the same state of detached awareness that got him into trouble in the first place. And that’s when Light makes his move.

They use a bodywash rather than soap – it’s something Light picked out (L didn’t give a damn), with a faint, vaguely masculine scent. They each have their own loofah as well, Light’s red, L’s blue. (L had looked askance at Light when they appeared in the shower but has come to enjoy the silly thing although he will certainly never admit to it.)

But today when he reaches for the fluffy object, it’s missing. Frowning, he turns and stares at the spot where it usually hangs. Light’s is there but his is missing. Did it run off somewhere? Perhaps it spawned sentience and is now hiding under their bed, feasting on dust bunnies and cookie crumbs. L rubs his face with a suppressed groan. He needs some coffee and pudding, STAT. This case (and Light, too, no doubt) is driving him potty.

L turns around again and there the missing loofah is, in Light’s hand, all lathered up.

L takes an unconscious step back – he’s closer to the wall than he realized and knocks into it, looking like a completely unbalanced and nervous idiot, surely. Which is _just_ the sort of impression he wishes to create in front of this person.

Light doesn’t laugh. He smiles but it’s a genuine one, not a smirk, meant to be reassuring, L thinks. He’s not going for it and stares at Light suspiciously through his dripping locks.

“Come here,” Light beckons encouragingly, holding out a hand.

L’s voice has left him once again, he’s disgusted to find, so all he can manage is a curt shake of his head.

Light’s expression changes slightly, appearing softer, gentle and kind. “Please?” he asks, his hand unwavering. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ryuuzaki. You can trust me.”

 _No, I **can’t.** Not at all._ But…. What is it about Light, about his eyes that leaves L feeling so vulnerable to him? Maybe he should start insisting Light wear sunglasses. All the time.

For now, though, against all reason and admonishment of his inner voice, he takes a slow step forward, toward Light. He approaches carefully, keeping a strong front and ignoring Light’s hand when he stops just in front of him.

 _I’m not going to let you overcome me again, in any way._ He stares defiantly at Light, asking silently why he is now standing over here. Light smiles again.

“I just thought you might like this,” he responds to the nonverbal query. Slowly, like he’s dealing with a wary animal, Light reaches forward and takes L’s arm then begins to wash it. L ought to take his arm back, take his loofah, too, and wash his own damn self … but of course he doesn’t. Like before, he’s becoming completely caught up in the feeling of it.

There’s nothing overtly sensual about it really, although just the act of being so carefully touched, L is finding, is stimulating in its own right. Light is moving him and cleansing his skin with such attention, wholly focused on his task and seemingly glad to do so.

“You have very nice skin,” he comments as he slides behind L, working across his shoulders to his other arm. L tenses a little, suddenly filled with a mild panic having Light there, behind him like that….

“Shh,” Light soothes, washing L’s back now, kneading lightly with the fingers of his unoccupied hand. L bristles at the somewhat demeaning treatment which helps to take the edge of his nervousness. And, well … it just really feels nice.

Light seems to be “keeping it clean” as he stops when he reaches the small of L’s back, moving around to his front once more to work on L’s chest. He pauses for a moment to pour more wash on the loofah and then continues. As he lathers bubbly circles over L’s torso, he glances up and catches L’s eyes, their gazes becoming locked. L feels his cheeks beginning to heat and cuts his eyes away. Damnit, what the _hell_ is _wrong_ with him? He is almost positive he’s never blushed in his entire life and now he’s doing it in front of Light with hardly any provocation. He’s never been so out-of-control of his body’s reactions and he doesn’t like it at all.

“You _are_ much stronger than you look,” Light comments and L glares at him distrustfully. Perhaps he should drown Light. He could probably make the charge of “witch” stick…. And Light’s certainly too intuitive for his own good.

Light suddenly drops to his knees and L jerks a bit. Light smiles up reassuringly and cautiously lays a hand on L’s leg.

“Don’t worry. You don’t want me to leave you half-done, do you?”

 _You could have just left me period._ He observes warily as Light slowly begins to wash his legs, purposely avoiding any sensitive or questionable areas. When he gets to L’s ankles, Light reaches up and gently pushes L against the wall then taps a foot lightly with his fingers saying, “Come on, lift it up for me.” Almost hypnotically, L obeys and Light begins washing his foot, using his hands as much as the loofah, not just cleansing but rubbing and soothing.

And suddenly it occurs to L that not only is _he_ in a perilous position but so is Light. As Light commented (and it doesn’t matter now how he meant it) L _is_ much stronger than he looks, something Light is well aware of firsthand. In particular, he knows _exactly_ how much damage L’s legs can do when they want. (Or nearly, anyway, since L hadn’t truly put his all into it.)

Yet here Light is, kneeling in front of him, seemingly in absolute confidence and trust and L knows that even if Light were to try to lay his hands on L like he did before, L wouldn’t be able to stop him. Not just because of the inexplicable and unfathomable hold Light’s mere eyes seem to have over his senses but because now he is sure he would feel something akin to guilt if he did. And L almost _never_ feels guilty.

Light is finished now and stands up. With a grin he bops L on the tip of the nose with the loofah, leaving a cluster of bubbles behind, and hands the scrubbie over. L takes it with a loud exhale, quivering the bubbles. He rubs them off and then rinses his face for good measure. Light chuckles a little before grabbing his own loofah and washing himself. Still on guard, L does the bits that Light skipped over – but his alertness seems unnecessary as Light leaves L alone for the rest of the shower. They dress in peace as well and L begins to wonder what it was truly all about.

For the next few showers they go through the same routine and L is rather concerned to find that he’s beginning to grow accustomed to it. Not only that, but he’s enjoying it. With the possible exception of Watari – whose services don’t include attentions on his person anyway – he’s never been pampered like this. It’s … pleasant. He doesn’t tell Light this, of course. No sense giving him any _more_ encouragement.

And then a new bottle appears.

It is a red and black bottle, professing to be a “Japanese Cherry Blossom” bodywash. Light must have requested it and he lathers up the loofah with it this time. The scent is a great deal stronger than that of their usual wash and L is somewhat surprised. It doesn’t seem like something Light would normally use. It’s not an unpleasant scent, necessarily, but it’s rather … feminine. And not much like actual _sakura_ either.

Still, as always now, L allows Light to wash him, almost relaxed with the routine at this point. It’s difficult not to be. Light is so deliberate and kind in his ministrations…. L is fairly sure he is becoming spoiled. He won’t admit to it but if Light insists on indulging him, who is he to say no?

Light finishes with L’s feet and stands again. L puts out his hand, expecting Light to return his loofah as he usually does … but this time isn’t usual. Instead, Light smiles at him and hangs the loofah back up. As L looks on with a confused frown, Light pours more wash into his palm. He begins lathering L again but this time with his bare hands. And this time his intentions are clearly different.

Maybe it is because he’s facing Light this time but L finds it easier to make an attempt to resist him. It is still a pitifully half-hearted, weak attempt, but nevertheless his meaning is taken.

“Don’t fight me,” Light murmurs as he uses his body to trap L against the wall, unrebuffed by his efforts to push him away. “You knew that wasn’t the end of it. You may have convinced part of yourself, but deep down you knew. And you didn’t want to be the last, either. You still don’t.” He is whispering in L’s ear now and L lets out a little whimperwhinemoan, his eyes tight shut, his hands clenched on Light’s shoulders as Light begins to awaken the flesh he’s been so studiously avoiding until now. And _Goddamn_ his own body but it’s responding just the way it did last time.

“See? It remembers….” He is almost fully erect now and Light moves his mouth down to his neck, nibbling while he strokes, producing those shudders L remembers from last time. He remembers it all, so very clearly, even though he tried to push it away, and those memories and the place where they are and Light’s hands and the warmth and the wet and _Light_ and Light facing him…. It’s all building up much faster than it did last time.

Especially when Light steps closer and his flesh is suddenly touching L’s and they’re both in Light’s hand, Light stroking them together. L gasps and clings even more tightly.

“Open your eyes, Ryuuzaki.” His voice is breathless.

_No, no I can’t. It’s too much…._

“Look at me, please. Please.” He can’t resist – his lids flutter open and though his head was tilted down, still somehow the first thing he sees is Light’s eyes. And this is no inverted image that appears three feet away through the magic of a mirror. He is right _here_ , scant inches away. Those amber eyes are glazed and focused so intently on _him_. Their breath is mingling, erratic and audible and the heat L feels isn’t just from the water pulsing around them, it’s from Light….

His walls shatter and break just like last time and Light comes with him. They both sag, foreheads touching, eyes closed, breath slowly evening out.

L’s eyes flutter open and strain a bit at trying to focus on the object so close to them.

“Light,” he says and Light’s eyes open. L isn’t sure what message is in his eyes right now, but whatever it is, it makes Light heave a sigh. He moves his head to press his cheek against L’s and L thinks he is going to whisper into his ear … but in the end Light simply steps back with a small smile and brushes some of L’s bedraggled hair out of his face. And that is that.

During their next shower, Light uses their normal bodywash and behaves normally and L allows him. The one after that involves the Japanese Cherry Blossom and more mutual gratification. L allows this, too.

There isn’t a pattern, exactly, to these occurrences. Perhaps it is merely when Light is feeling horny. But the one thing that remains consistent is the wash. It is always the Japanese Cherry Blossom when Light touches L like that and after a while L’s body begins to respond with anticipation when Light flicks the cap open and that scent permeates through the steam. L is severely annoyed at this reaction of himself – _he can’t even use the word “hate” anymore_ – especially since it will surely only reinforce Light’s actions. Which of course he doesn’t want.

Then Light becomes … difficult. Obviously, L has always known that Light is quite brilliant and that he also has a streak of sadism in him which L can appreciate, possessing one himself. And L doesn’t necessarily mind when that sadism and wit is directed at him as he enjoys a challenge and the opportunity to spar, be it verbally or mentally or physically. However, this time L is not at all appreciative of Light’s machinations.

After quite a number of these shower incidents, they suddenly cease, Light no longer using the Japanese Cherry Blossom wash or even, for that matter, washing L with their normal goop. And L is at a loss. He is confused but relieved, certainly … but…. His body misses the attention. All of it. Light spoiled him well and truly.

It gets worse when the fragrance returns. Not from the wash, Light still isn’t touching that, but he must have gotten some kind of spray with the same scent. He doesn’t use it every day, just now and again, sending L’s senses reeling as tactile memory overwhelms him. And not always in the privacy of their bedroom, no no, of course not. Sometimes in the midst of their fellow investigators, while they’re supposed to be focused on much more critical things. Well, try telling his body that.

He ignores it for as long as possible, not wanting to give Light the satisfaction of seeing his botherment (although he surely does anyway), and not wanting to admit to himself that he _is_ bothered in any fashion. Particularly _that_ fashion. That is _not_ the kind of frustrated the detective L gets.

It is two weeks before he decides he cannot take any more. It’s pitiful, really. A quarter of a lifetime without that kind of contact and as soon as he receives it, even unwanted as it initially was, he apparently can’t get enough. Although, it’s not as simple as that, is it? If it was, L _could_ just take care of it himself, chain Light to one of the bedposts while he takes himself off into the bathroom and makes like any other healthy unattached male. But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be touched, by Light. Horribly entrancing Light.

So now the only thing holding him back is his pride, a considerable, nearly insurmountable hurdle. Still, what is the point of pride here? True, L has been laid bare in many ways, but he can’t say Light hasn’t done the same. Even though he’s been manipulative, there has still been openness and honesty.

L makes his choice. During their next shower, while Light’s back is turned, L picks up the bottle of Japanese Cherry Blossom. He wavers for a moment then strengthens his resolve.

“Light,” he calls gently. When Light turns to face him, he holds out the bottle, speaking his request with his eyes because his mouth just can’t. Light smiles, gently and with true joy. (And perhaps a touch of smugness.) He takes the bottle and L’s loofah while L bites his lip and closes his eyes….


	3. Taste

Given everything that Light has already done to his body, and everything he’s reciprocated (after careful and skilled manipulation), L hadn’t anticipated being surprised by something as simple as a kiss. But he is. Not just surprised, but staggered. There is something different about the act, something _wholly_ different from anything they’ve done before.

Unlike most of their … activities, it doesn’t take place in the shower. Neither are they naked. Rather, they have just retired from the main investigation room for the night. L walks through to door to their bedroom, intending to take the laptop sitting on the bureau over to the bed so he can continue to do what he wishes while Light sleeps. However, Light stops him before he gets even a few feet inside, takes his elbow, turns him around.

“What is it, Light?” The words, which start out vaguely annoyed, trail off and nearly die unfinished. Because there is a glimmer in Light’s eyes, the kind that has L losing control of his body’s normal reactions. Although, this look is a little different. L can’t quite decide how, but something about it has changed.

And, indeed, Light alters things yet again. He touches L, but not in the way L has come to expect. Light softly cups his cheek, thumb stroking just under his eye, holds his gaze for a long moment and then bends down slightly and lays his lips on L’s.

L has always had a rather clinical understanding of kissing. He knows it is something lovers do, something family and friends do to show love, affection, caring. But understanding and experience are two very different things.

His eyes have slipped shut and every nerve is intently focused on that one point of contact. Why? Why is _this_ so different? He’s been touched so much more intimately so many times before, Light’s laid his lips against his skin in other places. Why is this so … _breathtaking_? Why is his heart racing? Why are little spikes of … _something_ (nervousness, enjoyment, he just doesn’t know) dancing in his stomach? Why does this feel so much more _intense_ than what they’ve done before?

It probably only lasts a few seconds but it may as well have been hours while L’s thoughts spin madly and go nowhere at all. Light pulls away and smiles, still stroking L’s cheek. He seems to be waiting for something and L … L asks,

“Why did you do that?” Clearly, whatever Light may have been waiting for, that was not it. It is momentary, but his smile slips a bit and something flashes through his amber eyes, something that has those little spikes of feeling needling L in response. Definitely not in a good way.

“You really don’t know?”

_Should I? Am I supposed to?_ “I … no. No, I don’t.” Again that flash. Is he exasperated? Disappointed? Or … hurt?

Whatever it is, he covers it quickly with a faux sigh and a rueful shake of his head. “It’s because you’re sexy,” Light answers with a teasing grin and L is given something new to mull over.

_Sexy?_

_That wasn’t the response he was looking for._

_Sexy?_

_What did that look mean?_

_Sexy?_

_He tried to cover it up, tried to distract me._

_Sexy?_

_Effectively, apparently._ Whatever it was is gone now but that original, baffling gaze is still there and it’s making L just as uncomfortable because there is a part of him that understands what it means, but that part just isn’t communicating with the rest of him. And L does _not_ like being left in the dark.

But then Light just sighs, gives him another smile – this one a little forced L thinks – and moves off to the bed to begin readying for sleep. And L is pretty sure he screwed up. But he’s not sure how. And really, why should he even care? He’s letting Light play his game, isn’t that enough?

No, it’s not. Because he knows the game has changed, or maybe it never was a game to begin with. L still doesn’t entirely understand what’s going on here but he knows it’s deeper than a need to release sexual tension or even a need to manipulate, dominate (although surely that is part of it). He doesn’t really want to think about what might really be going on between them but Light is breaking him open further and further every day. To the point now where the thought that he may have inadvertently pained Light disturbs him.

“Light, I didn’t….” _I didn’t mind. I didn’t … dislike it._ But he just _can’t say it_. It frustrates the hell out of him. He’s never been so inarticulate, especially around Light. With Light, one needs to keep one’s wits well-honed and L is no dullard. It’s only in these situations that he finds himself foundering like a child and that is no doubt part of what is so very aggravating.

But, as is so often the case, Light reads the unspoken words in his eyes, and for once L is something like grateful.

“Get your sexy butt over here,” Light says with a grin. L scowls at him and he chuckles, tugging on the chain to hasten L’s grudging steps. When L gets close enough, Light takes his wrist, then his waist, positioning L between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. Light smiles at him again but says nothing else, just wraps a hand around the back of his neck, pulls him down and kisses him again. And this time L purposely shuts off all thought. It hasn’t done him any good so far, so why bother?

He doesn’t dislike this at all. Actually … he’s enjoying it quite a bit. At first it is just a meeting of their lips like before, a series of slow, soft touches, separating just enough to distinguish one kiss from the next. Then Light’s mouth parts slightly, his lips playing with and gently pulling at L’s, encourage them to part as well. L follows him into the open kisses and makes a tiny noise of surprise when he feels Light’s tongue probing just inside his mouth.

L hesitates for a moment and then tentatively touches his tongue to Light’s, those little spikes dancing furiously in response. It feels like Light smiles for a moment before he opens his mouth wider, sealing their lips together, playing and stroking and exploring with his tongue, enticing L to do the same, and he does. It’s slow and heated, all-consuming. They break apart only long enough to take deeper breaths and then dive back in, tongues battling, testing, learning.

Eventually, they taper off and L is brought back to himself. He is breathing rather heavily, his heart pounding. At some point he has put his hands on Light, one clutching at the collar of his shirt, the other partially threaded through his hair. It’s the first time he’s touched Light’s hair, he realizes. Actually, it’s the first time he’s touched Light at all, unsolicited. He rather likes the way Light’s hair feels. Perhaps he’ll keep running his fingers through it in the future.

Light’s still holding him tightly, staring, it seems, straight through L into his soul. He gazes back, studying Light but not daring to analyze. He wants to know what’s going on here but … he’s oddly afraid. Or is that too strong a word? What does he really have to be afraid of? Well, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?

Finally, Light grins and stretches up to kiss L’s nose.

“Sexy,” he teases and L glares at him, pulling himself out of Light’s grasp and moving off toward the bureau as he originally intended. But he can’t entirely dissipate those spikes because he knows that Light did that purposely, letting L put up his thorns and gain some space between them. Somehow, it’s almost worse.

Still, he can’t deny that Light has once again successfully awakened something within him and this one L embraces whole-heartedly. In one short session L has become thoroughly addicted to those marks of affection, not just receiving but giving as well.

At first it’s only in the privacy of their room, L gladly letting himself be pulled into Light’s arms and occasionally initiating it on his own. But after a while L can’t help himself and begins stealing kisses whenever he thinks he can get away with it regardless of where they are, often taking Light’s hand and laying kisses along his palm, his knuckles, the tips of his fingers. Light accepts it with a kind of indulgent smile which probably ought to rankle L but for some reason just doesn’t anymore.

Then he happens upon a new form of enjoyment as he discovers that things take on a new flavor when reflected back to him on Light’s tongue. In particular he likes the taste of strawberries and the taste of éclairs. Perhaps realizing how much pleasure L takes in it, Light has become much more amenable to eating those kinds of things. Or maybe he doesn’t care as long as it gets L plastered to him as soon as they’re alone and can do so.

Through it all, L tries very hard not to think about why he likes kissing so much, why this feeling of connection with Light is so sweet and filling and _important_. Usually L spends all his resources _striving_ to figure things out but this is different. He both wants to know and very much _doesn’t_ want to and the dichotomy is trying, so he pushes it away. But, as is perhaps inevitable, things reach a new level, giving L even more to mull over.

Whether it’s that they haven’t had any release in a while or because of the strawberry, L’s not sure. As soon as the door is closed, L wraps an arm around Light’s neck and brings the fruit up to Light’s mouth, trailing it along his lips and smiling in a slightly childish way. Light smiles back and obediently opens his mouth, taking a slow bite that has L tightening with anticipation. He draws the remaining half along Light’s lips again, leaving a trail of juice. He takes a moment (a very short moment) to admire the way it looks, that berry red on Light’s soft, already-sweet lips and then his tongue is running along them and pushing between, savoring the taste of strawberry and Light.

Of course it doesn’t stop there – Light wraps his own arms around L and gladly gives it all back. For some reason, though, this is a little wilder than usual, a little more desperate. They clutch and stroke each other, pressed as close as possible. Light starts moving them and before L realizes it he’s against the bed, then laid back on it, Light over top of him. And for the first time in a while he tenses up.

Light’s aware of it almost immediately and pulls away long enough to look L in the eye, brush some straying locks away from his face.

“It’s alright,” he soothes. “Just let me. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” L stares at him for a moment before making up his mind. If he even really had a choice to begin with. He doesn’t say anything but there must be something in his eyes or his face because Light gives him a pleased smile and then returns to kissing him.

L tries to relax and, really, it’s not that difficult. He’s wrapped up in the heady sensation of Light’s kisses which changes to a pleasant tingling as Light moves from his mouth to the line of his jaw and down his throat, using his teeth as well as his lips. He tenses up again briefly when Light digs the key out of his pocket to unlock their cuffs so that he can remove L’s shirt, but Light quickly resuming the oral pleasuring and L relaxes as Light’s mouth moves from his neck down his chest. His fingers seek out Light’s shirt only semi-consciously and begin working at the buttons, pushing the fabric off Light’s shoulders when they’re finally undone.

The feel of their bare skin touching isn’t like it is in the shower, and not even like The Incident. It’s hotter, L more hypersensitive. He lets out a soft groan and doesn’t bother to feel embarrassed about it. Light answers with his own satisfied noise while he traces the lines of L’s chest with his tongue, flicking lightly over his nipples and sending shoots of fire straight to L’s core. He sucks gently on the taut flesh of L’s abdomen, leaving faint marks, and his fingers start unfastening L’s pants.

L tenses up again when Light starts to remove the jeans along with his boxers and this time he doesn’t find it easy to relax. This position is making him feel more vulnerable than any other and he just _can’t_ trust Light. He squirms a little and Light rubs the outside of his thighs, his hips, his sides.

“Don’t start thinking about it now. Just lay back and enjoy it.” Something about that doesn’t sound quite right but Light effectively distracts L by moving up to kiss him again, long and deep, before working his way back down, quickly this time.

L cries out and fists the sheets when Light’s mouth closes around him. It’s so … it’s…. Cogent thought is failing him, leaving only sensation and single words. Warmth. Moist. Pressure. Caressing. Delirious. Faster, stronger…. He doesn’t last long under the mind-blowing assault and releases with another cry. Some distant part of him wonders if he’s been rude somehow but Light doesn’t seem to care. As L gasps and pants, Light crawls back up his body with a smile, dips his head for another kiss.

L doesn’t much care for the taste in Light’s mouth now and yet there’s something about it he likes very much. Probably because it’s a reminder, evidence of what Light just did, the incredible feel of it still running in aftershocks through L’s veins. Drowsily, L wraps his arms around Light’s neck, kisses him back fully, aware that on some level he is expressing gratitude.

Light pulls away and runs his thumb along L’s lower lip. “Ryuuzaki,” he begins cautiously, “would you…?” He trails off and looks down meaningfully. And L freezes, feeling the blood that was blushing his face drain away. Light smiles ruefully, strokes a cheek. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just….” He trails off again, smile still a touch regretful but gentle.

L cuts his eyes away, hands gripped tightly on Light’s shoulders, poised to push him away. _He wants me to do_ that _? I couldn’t. I can’t. I…._ He feels a pang in his gut, something he can’t quite identify but knows is tied up in Light’s happiness. And L is finally forced to admit to himself that he doesn’t want Light to be unhappy. More than that, he wants to _make_ Light happy. He … he _wants_ to do this for Light. But….

_God, I don’t know what I’m doing! I have no idea! What if I do it wrong? What if he hates it?_ Suddenly L is disgusted with himself. After all, he’s L, damnit! One of the smartest people in the world, and he does not _whine_ about not knowing something, he bloody _figures it out_.

He brings his eyes back to Light’s, unconsciously bites his lip for a moment and then pulls Light down for a kiss. Without breaking it, he rolls them over, fingers quickly working on Light’s trousers at the same time. He pulls away to slide them down along with the underwear, eyes flicking up to Light’s face to see the radiant smile there. The spikes tingle away, L’s face flushing again. He returns to Light’s mouth, then gradually makes his way down much the same as Light did for him.

 Just below Light’s navel he hesitates, raises his eyes to meet Light’s. The reassurance and anticipation are clear in those amber depths, bolstering L, making him feel that no matter what he does, whether skilled or not, Light will be happy.

L takes a breath and lowers his head.


	4. Sight

During his intensive research into Light, L had discovered that he wears corrective lenses. However, this fact had not really registered until they began their co-habitation. Now such a minor thing has become part of their nightly routine.

Apparently Light only needs the glasses occasionally for reading, most particularly when his eyes are strained. And given that he’s been reading almost non-stop for weeks, hours into the night, tiny pixels on harshly bright screens bleeding together until they’re nearly indecipherable, glasses or no, it’s no wonder that they’ve been slipping onto his face every evening.

L decides he likes Light’s glasses, likes the way they look on him. (Of course, everything about Light’s looks is just so damn appealing, isn’t it?) They are simple and elegant – gold, wire-framed with small oval lenses. Light looks older, professional, when he wears them. He looks … like the man he could be some day. An odd thought, but fitting, L thinks.

However, even though L enjoys the way Light looks with the spectacles there is something about them that he doesn’t care for. After a while he comes to the conclusion that it is because with them in the way he can’t see himself reflected in Light’s eyes. Not that he’s deliberately looking for it, but when it’s gone he notices. And there’s something else he’s noticed. Light’s eyes change color when he’s aroused.

It seems likely that that’s the change L saw that very first time although his mind was in such turmoil it didn’t properly register. But now that he’s seen it quite a number of times, now that he actually _looks_ at Light’s face and into his eyes when they’re doing … things, it’s startlingly obvious.

From a distance Light’s eyes appear to be a simple amber in color. Pretty, but just one of many shades of brown. But when viewed closer, say, from a mere inch or so away and without glasses interfering, the full array of tints and hues are clear. Ringed in deep cocoa, the outer iris is a medium caramel with swirls and flecks of gold blending in from the center. Interesting and lovely in and of itself, but even more so is that when Light is flushed and aroused the gold seems to become the dominant color, making his eyes glow beatifically. (Although L generally thinks Light is anything _but_ saintly.)

Something twists in L when he sees Light like this, or maybe just when he stares at Light regardless, something L can’t properly identify. It’s not necessarily unpleasant, but it’s still one of those things L hasn’t been able to puzzle out and is therefore irritated by. So far only one thing is clear and that is that the feeling is associated with a single word: _Mine_.

When L has decided he is done working for the night – and therefore, Light should be as well – he gently removes Light’s glasses, setting them on the desk in their bedroom. If he feels the message needs to be reinforced, he will do this while climbing onto Light’s lap. Then, depending on his whim, he will either lean forward and kiss Light, or wait for Light to kiss him.

Depending on _Light’s_ mood, he will either give a slightly exasperated smile and oblige L with his kiss or he will give an entirely _different_ kind of smile and just sit there, staring back at L, challenge gleaming. It then becomes a battle of wills to see who will move first, who will crack under the tension.

It is sad to say that it is most often L who breaks. Unwilling to be engaged in the stalemate any longer, he will then clutch Light’s shirt in an unyielding grip, haul him out of the chair, and throw himself bodily back onto the bed, dragging Light down with him. Here, again depending on their moods, the game may or may not continue, Light smugly and obstinately remaining uninvolved until L’s ever-growing skills can coax forth the inevitable response, neither able to help a chuckle or two before things reach the level of passion that dissolves amusement.

Of course, L has rationalized his “losses” quite thoroughly. He is a man who knows what he wants and why should he have to wait for it? He has never been a particularly patient person when he can get what he desires and get it _now_. Therefore it has nothing to do with Light having greater willpower in this area or L’s _needs_ being stronger than Light’s. Nothing at all.

(And when L _wins_ … well, that is clearly a matter of his superior ability.)

What bothers him more now is when they _don’t_ play their game. When L removes Light’s glasses, they share a lingering kiss and then Light readies for bed, L joining him. When they lie down together and do nothing but _be_ together, Light curling on his side as he slowly drifts off, L occasionally joining him in slumber but more often than not just crouching beside him, hunched over and biting his thumb, furiously thinking about anything _but_ the person beside him or the things he might be feeling about him. Especially why moments like these are just as pleasurable as the ardent ones they share.

So to help distract himself, L has begun playing his own game.

The first game he devised was regrettably short-lived as it involved leaving evidence with his mouth and teeth that was a little too recognizable.

( _“… Light? Is that … a bruise on the side of your neck? And … your wrist?...”_

_“Oh. Yes, well—”_

_“I’m afraid, Yagami, that Light became rather difficult last night and I was forced to subdue him. For his own well-being, of course.”_

_“… I see. Well … please try to be more cooperative in the future, Light. I know this must be a trial for you, but….”_

_“Yes, Light, things would undoubtedly be much easier if you maintained a certain level of_ cooperation _.”_

_“I’ll keep that in mind,_ Ryuuzaki _. Believe me, it_ won’t _being happening again.” Here L had to turn away to hide a smile at the rather enthralling mix of emotions in Light’s eyes: Amusement, utter irritation, and the promise of excellent retribution in bed that night._ )

Therefore L has modified his game – it’s still potentially suspicious should they be discovered, but he assumes that his and Light’s natural talents at dissimulation and thinking on their feet could easily deflect any concerns or questions.

Light seems to be a fairly heavy sleeper. Either that or he’s even more of a gifted actor than L has given him credit for. But he doesn’t know why Light would continue to let him play his game if that were the case, thus L continues to assume Light is unaware of his nocturnal activities. Hickies are out but L still feels the need to mark Light in some way, so now he keeps a black felt-tip marker by the bed. When he gets the urge – and it’s always a sporadic thing – he’ll pick a spot and draw on Light. The game, then, is for Light to figure out whether or not L has in fact done this and where he might have left it if he did.

To test the sensitivity of a prospective area (and for _only_ this reason) L will lay a gentle kiss there first and gauge Light’s reaction. To date the strongest response he’s gotten is a vaguely annoyed wiggle and shift away. He also once drew a pleased murmur and an effort to snuggle closer which so surprised him that he never did leave a mark that night.

However, Light is generally placid enough that after the kiss test L will take the pen – in his left hand so as not to let the chain give him away – and leave his mark. It had taken some consideration before L decided what the brand should be and when he did, he couldn’t help the smirk that arose at his choice. Because the sign L leaves is his own, his gothic black letter in miniature on Light’s otherwise flawless skin. _Mine mine mine_.

Thus far L has left the symbol on Light’s bicep, just below his navel, the top of his foot, the inside of his thigh, the curve of his hip, the small of his back, and the nape of his neck just under the fringe of his silky hair. Light has succeeded in finding each one, usually within an hour of his awakening (a particularly impressive feat for the one on the back of his neck but L chalked that up to a severe case of bedhair and Light’s zealous tidiness). The discovery is generally accompanied by an amused noise somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh, and a kiss for the mirrored spot on L. An odd mix of disappointment and satisfaction fills L at Light’s speedy finds and of course he takes a special glee when Light spends undue time searching for a mark which isn’t there.

Tonight L takes a particularly long time deciding where he wants to place the “L.” He would love to leave one somewhere like Light’s forehead or the tip of his nose but that would defeat the purpose and probably just truly piss Light off which, while occasionally fun to do, is not the intention behind this game. There is one other spot he’s been meaning to try, but he doesn’t know if he dares…. What the hell is he thinking? Of course he dares, he’s L!

Even so, it is with a bit of apprehension and an exceptionally careful hand that L lowers Light’s underwear, keeping a close eye on his face for any sign of stirring. He pauses for a moment, hesitates, before laying a gentle kiss on the organ with which his hands and mouth have unexpectedly become quite familiar.

Light makes a soft noise and shifts a little but doesn’t seem to be rousing. Intrigued, L places a second kiss and Light responds again, this time with a pleased-sounding little sigh and a twitch. A deviant smirk crosses L’s lips as a new idea comes to him. After all, it would be easier to write on firmer skin, wouldn’t it?

Still intently watching Light’s face, L begins using his tongue to stir the flesh, hardening it with surprising ease and swiftness. It is a singular but interesting sensation to feel it swelling to fullness under his lips. He slides only the tip inside his mouth, caressing the head in a way that he’s learned Light enjoys very much. Light is making more noises, half-moans and tiny whimpers, and becoming rather restless, legs separating, feet flexing and pointing, although he still appears to be completely asleep.

Very briefly L considers finishing Light off but ultimately decides against it because he’s not sure that that wouldn’t result in waking Light and he doesn’t feel like explaining himself. Plus, sometimes he just enjoys being a bit of a bastard. So he pulls his mouth away, Light groaning in displeasure, his brow furrowing, and reaches for the marker. With a delicate hand, L draws his letter along the side of Light’s arousal – after all, it can’t be _that_ obvious. He cocks his head, admiring his handiwork and wondering how the mark will change in appearance when the skin is no longer taut. Then he replaces the marker, cautiously pulls Light’s underwear back up, and spends much of the rest of the night grinning as he watches Light’s unconscious frustration and thinking about what his reaction will be in the morning.

His poker face is firmly set when Light finally wakes up and rises to prepare for the day. And it is still there when Light looks down while relieving himself and stiffens for a moment.

“Oh, Ryuuzaki?” His voice is dangerously composed.

“Yes, Light?”

“Would you care to explain this?” L peeks over Light’s shoulder, finger between his lips, to where he is pointing and sees the letter, still quite recognizable.

“Perhaps it is some sort of skin lesion? Would you like me to call a doctor for you?” The key here, of course, is to deliver such absurdities with absolute sincerity.

Light turns his head to look at L, eyes burning. “I don’t think so. I’m sure I can take care of it later. Tonight.”

“As you wish, Light.” It’s difficult to maintain that clueless façade when he’s actually tingling with anticipation. He’s finally stopped lying to himself – about one thing at least – and, though he still refuses to acknowledge it to Light, he thoroughly enjoys, actually, looks _forward to_ what they do in bed together. Or in the shower. Or against the wall. Wherever.

It is a little challenging to concentrate throughout the day while he’s thinking about what will happen later that night but thankfully it passes quickly, especially now that they’ve made a great deal more headway on the case. L is a little on edge as they enter their room when they finally retire for the night, unsure what exactly Light is planning to do. He gets his answer quickly. As soon as the door is closed, Light removes his glasses, tossing them rather carelessly unto a nightstand, and uses the chain to jerk L toward him. Pulled off-balance, L crashes into Light, only awkwardly keeping his feet. While he tries to right himself, Light whips his left arm in a circle over their heads, wrapping them both in the metal links and effectively trapping L against him.

L glares at Light as he half-heartedly pushes at him – but it is a meaningless gesture and they both know it. Not that that will keep Light from goading L, of course.

“Trying to escape?” he asks with a smirk. L’s glare sharpens and his hands, flattened on Light’s chest, now curl into fists, clutching and wrinkling the fabric of his crisp shirt. When Light leans forward to take his mouth, L meets him halfway, kissing back with fervor, their tongues battling fiercely. They both groan in longing, one of L’s arms hooking around the back of Light’s head, his fingers mussing his silky hair, while Light’s hands slide down to L’s backside, grinding their lower halves together.

There is a bit of a struggle for the key as L is intent on undoing the cuffs but Light for some reason is being decidedly difficult, grabbing at L’s hands and even – _does his impertinence know no bounds?_ – tickling L’s sides to throw him off. L’s not entirely sure whether to laugh at Light or kick him but figures that amusement would only encourage him and so settles for yanking the chain tighter, restricting Light’s devilish hands while L’s free arm can go for the key. He quickly opens the cuffs and shucks the tangle of chain. The chain is followed quickly by their clothes and they tumble onto the bed together in a pile of intertwined limbs, heated breaths and unbreakable kisses.

They explore each other’s bodies as if they’ve never touched each other before, fingers dancing over and stroking every inch, mouths tasting delicately. Skin is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, hearts are pounding, breath is short and audible.

“Oh God, Ryuuzaki,” Light murmurs against L’s collarbone and he moans in response, fire streaking through him both from the words and the tone in which they were uttered. “Ryuuzaki … Ryuuzaki, will you let me?” Light’s fingers brush over the small, sensitive opening below his hardened flesh and L sucks in a breath. He’s had Light’s fingers there before, inside, but he knows that’s not what Light’s asking for this time. But he also knows it’s been coming and he … he doesn’t _not_ want it. Biting his lip, L nods just once and Light gives him a jubilant kiss before reaching for the lubricant they now keep in the nightstand.

(And L really can’t imagine the conversation with Watari on that one. Light somehow managed to do so without L being aware of it and Watari has yet to broach the subject. Thank fortune for small favors because that is _not_ a discussion L wants to even contemplate.)

While Light draws L into a round of long, deep kisses, his slicked fingers carefully begin to work their way inside. This part he’s gotten fairly used to and is coming to enjoy, especially as Light is adept at finding places that have him gasping and arching as he clutches desperately at whatever is in reach.

It’s the next part that has him feeling a little uncomfortable, stretched open more than he’s used to, an extra digit added to aid the process. But Light is also skilled at distraction, concentrating his mouth on L’s sensitive areas, particularly the eager organ between his legs.

And then Light is spreading L’s legs and positioning himself between them … and L rolls over onto his stomach. Not away, just….

_I don’t want you to see my face._ He doesn’t know what’s going to happen and he’s … nervous. He still needs that little bit of distance between them.

“I don’t get to see your face?” Light sounds a little disappointed and L’s stomach tightens.

_Please don’t ask me. Please don’t make me say no to you_.

“Well … alright. How can I resist such a sexy offer?”

_Thank you_. He lets Light arrange him into a better position on his knees and elbows, his face half-buried in a pillow. There is a moment of confusion when Light leaves the bed, then enlightenment when he returns with a hand towel which he spreads out under L who quivers a little when he thinks about _why_ that towel is there. But Light is kneeling behind him now and he closes his eyes, just waiting, trying not to be tense.

“Ryuuzaki,” Light whispers and then he pressing pressing pressing _stretching_ …. L cries out – he can’t help it and neither can he help that it is obviously a sound of discomfort. Light stops and L can’t tell if he’s completely inside or not, everything is burning right now….

“Ryuuzaki….”

_Don’t. Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t. Don’t apologize, don’t coddle me, I couldn’t handle it, please don’t._ There is a pause while L tries to adjust, half of him fretting about what Light is going to do. Suddenly he feels Light’s tongue licking up the curve of his spine and along his scar. Then Light’s teeth unexpectedly bite down at the base of L’s neck and he yelps in surprise, feeling Light slide forward at the same time. Distraction, he realizes and growls a little in pretence of irritation.

“What?” Though a touch breathless, Light’s voice still manages to sound silky. “I thought you liked sneakiness.” And L can’t suppress a tiny smile at that although he hides it in the pillow.

Then Light begins to move, slowly and carefully, and gradually the hurt wanes as that delicious pressure L’s come to know builds and all he can think is _Light’s inside me, he’s inside_ , and then Light reaches down and begins stroking him and all manner of lustful noises spill from his lips. And then he’s spilling, too, and so is Light, _oh God_ ….

He seems to have lost conscious thought for a moment. When he is aware again, he is flattened out, half on his side, Light lying behind him but no longer inside. For the time being they seem to simply be breathing together. Eventually, Light stirs – he leans over L to deliver a soft, lingering kiss, followed by one on his cheek, and then he pushes himself up with a groan. The towel is folded up, a clean section used to wipe off the stickiness between L’s legs, before being delivered into the hamper. The chain is collected from the floor, the lights turned off, the sheets pulled up over them. The cuffs are refastened and Light settles beside L, his hand lightly clasping L’s.

“Goodnight, Ryuuzaki,” and within moments he is asleep.

L is tired. Very much so. But he just can’t sleep yet. It aches. Not his rear – well, that does, too, but what’s bothering him now is the ache in his chest. He’s … unsettled. But his brain is sluggish and dull and he can’t even begin to puzzle it out.

For a long time he looks at Light, watches him as he sleeps. Then he reaches over to the nightstand, retrieves the marker. Gently his fingers skate over Light’s chest, stopping when they feel the point where his heartbeat is the strongest. He bends down and places a long kiss on that spot, feeling the pulsing beneath his lips. He draws his mark, and when he is done, puts the marker back and then lays his head down on Light’s chest, ear over the sign so he can hear Light’s heart. He closes his eyes and thinks about nothing.


	5. Sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chose to go with the anime take for this piece.

_You’ll view the list_

_And take your pick_

_You’ll view my fate_

_And make the choice_

_‘Cause I’m nobody else’s but yours_

_And you’re in my heart_

_I can feel your beat_

_And you move my mind_

_From behind the wheel_

_When I lose control_

_I can only breathe your name_

 

The first thing L is aware of as he slowly wakes is the sound of Light’s breath by his ear, slow and peaceful. It is, L has decided, one of the most pleasant noises in the world. And this feeling, as he slowly wakes with Light wrapped around him, is his favorite. The position they’re in probably looks ghastly, but it’s actually quite comfortable. L is on his back, Light curled up next to him on his side. Light’s right leg is bent over L’s left, while L’s right leg is slung over Light’s hips and along his back. Light’s arm is wrapped around L’s shoulders, L’s hand resting on the elbow, their other hands linked somewhere between their bodies.

Out of everything, everything they’ve done and, really, everything he’s ever experienced in his life, L loves this the most. Lying here, wrapped up and intertwined with Light, being this close, feeling a kind of amazement and wonder and disbelief and … _joy_. He loves it, he loves—

L’s eyes flutter open. More awake now, he can hear rain _zaa_ -ing against the window panes and the side of the building. Faint shadows of the sliding water are dancing along the bit of the ceiling he can just see over the edge of the canopy. Light hasn’t woken yet – his breath is still softly rustling strands of L’s hair.

He turns his head to look at Light, hand unconsciously stroking the arm lying on his chest. Light really is beautiful, in many ways. Most especially this way, in repose. Because he’s calm and content and at ease and, most importantly, because he’s with L. But L also loves talking with Light, debating him; he loves fighting with Light; he loves having sex with Light (although he still refuses to say so); he loves simply being in the same _room_ as Light. He loves….

The word echoes and rings through L’s mind, like a bell. He remembers the tone, from a long long time ago, a scene washed in a patina of gold the way memories often seem to be. Or perhaps it is the glow he’s thinking of. It was a Christmas tree, in the room just off the foyer. Set up by the caretakers, it was absolutely covered in lights, garlands and all manner of shiny and colorful baubles and ornaments. Like most of the other children he’d been attracted by the sight, but it was really that one ornament, about halfway up the tree, something silver…. Funny, he can’t even recall what it looked like anymore although he can hear it just as clearly as if it were ringing now.

They had been shown a movie that year, sometime after the tree was placed. He can’t remember what it was called, or even entirely what it was about, only bits and pieces. It was old, black-and-white, and he hadn’t been that terribly interested. But the one thing that had caught his attention was the bell. Its clear and distinctive ringing was pleasing to L, although he was never entirely sure why. Maybe because of the promise that came with it, the promise of good things to come, of hope.

How surprised and quietly delighted he was, then, to find that that ornament – which must have been some kind of bell, too – had nearly the same tone. It had been a complete accident he discovered it at all – he just happened to be in the room when someone came through the door, bringing a powerful, frigid gust with him. The bell sang out and L was enchanted.

He never dared actually touch the ornament to make it sound but when he was alone in the room he would pad quietly over to the tree, get up on tiptoe and softly blow, making it jingle just loudly enough for him to hear. And let him hope that maybe good things would happen for him, too, when it chimed. L’s clandestine little tintinnabulation.

As he stares at Light now, he can hear it, gently and insistently ringing while, with the barest of touches, he traces the features of Light’s face. The curves of his eyebrows, the straight line of his nose, the soft flesh of his lips. The smooth skin of his cheek, the strong angle of his jaw … he even very delicately brushes a fingertip along the edge of Light’s eyelashes which earns him a squinch and Light burying his face further into the pillow. The action has L’s mouth curving into an unconscious smile of contentment. He really does love this. Truthfully….

_I … love him. I love Light. I. Love. Light_. A sudden warmth fills L, starting in his chest, radiating out into his limbs. It is like a floodgate has opened within him, letting loose all that he’s been denying and suppressing, all that has been building in him for so long. It’s … a relief, really. Why has he lied to himself all this time?

And that’s when cold reality breaks open and invades his cocoon of happiness, draining the warmth and leaving a stone of fear to settle in his stomach. He pulls away from Light, pushing himself upright and pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

_This isn’t … this isn’t right. I shouldn’t…._ It’s too dangerous. Far, far too dangerous, especially given the events of this past week. Granted, Light hasn’t seemed to have changed in any way, but he’s always been so skilled at acting, at concealing so many parts of himself. And even though L should be _better_ at reading him, his own mess of emotions is so clouding his perception that he’s probably worse than ever at being able to see through Light’s fallacies.

_Why did you do this to me? If you were just going to take it away, why did you give it to me in the first place?_ His vision glazes a bit as he stares down at Light, still sleeping, completely unaware of the mental chaos raging beside him.

Maybe … maybe he is wrong. He needs to get a hold of himself, stop this useless panicking, step back and _find the answer_. L pulls the thumb that he’s been desperately chewing on out of his mouth and flicks his eyes back down to Light. It all lies there, with him. He can figure this out. He _needs_ to.

“Light. _Light_. Wake up. Liiiiiight.” By now L knows Light is awake and just being obstinate as he is sometimes wont to do. Usually, this would be the point at which L takes his pillow and begins boffing Light upside the head, but today he’s just not in the mood.

“Light, please. Wake up?” His tone must have gotten through to Light – his long lashes lift, amber eyes hazy with sleep and a hint of confusion. But he smiles when he sees L and L feels a spike of joy and pain.

“Hi there,” Light murmurs and L manages a small smile for him. Slowly, keeping his eyes on Light and aware that he probably looks like some kind of cagey animal, L slides and scooches until he is lying down once more next to Light. For a while he stares at him, unconsciously nibbling on his thumb again, and then he moves closer and kisses Light. After a long moment he pulls back and stares at Light again.

“What’s up, Ryuuzaki?” Mild concern has joined the confusion in Light’s eyes. L sighs inwardly – he has to loosen up or he’s going to kill the mood before he can even start it. Of course, he can probably play it off as nervousness. After all, he _is_.

“I want…” he begins and then trails off, biting his lip.

“Yes?” Light prompts gently when L doesn’t continue.

“…You,” L finishes. Light grins widely but it doesn’t seem anything other than kind.

“Then you can have me,” he speaks in a tone of voice that has L’s body shivering involuntarily even as he wonders, _Can I?_ But he pushes it away as Light pulls him close, letting his body’s natural reactions take over, wrapping himself around Light while their tongues tango. It is perhaps not the most _objective_ way to find the answer he’s looking for, but he thinks it’s still probably the best.

And it’s easier than he would have thought to slip back into his normal mode and even recapture a tiny bit of what he was feeling this morning as Light rolls on top of him, his mind blanking out into that rapturous fog which seems to enhance sensation.

He arches with a sigh when Light moves down to his neck to bite and lay open kisses. It’s never quite as hard as L would like but they discovered that his rather fair skin bruises too easily for that kind of thing. He threads his fingers through Light’s hair and teases the shells of his sensitive ears with the tips of his fingers, making Light squirm and nip in retaliation. L smirks and slides his hands down Light’s back, tracing the smooth lines and pressing Light close as he dips lower to use his tongue on L’s chest.

Slipping a hand between them and into Light’s underwear, L begins to slowly stroke the growing arousal, earning a very pleased-sounding groan. He gasps and groans himself when Light takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling and teasing and flicking with his tongue, then gently sucking.

Light shifts off to the side so that he can hook his fingers under the waistband of L’s boxers and begin pulling them down, L lifting his hips to aid the process. When they’re off, Light flings the garment heedlessly away to land somewhere in the middle of the room, making L chuckle. Light grins at him and then descends without warning on his erection. L cries out and bucks, fingers clutching Light’s head as he puts that warm, wet mouth to wonderfully sinful purpose.

“Nnn, Light….” L reaches down and tugs at Light’s waist. Light raises his head to send a quizzical look at L who continues to pull at Light and make more vaguely whiny noises. After a second, Light understands what it is that L wants and, with a smirk, shifts his position again so that his hips are at L’s head. L draws down Light’s underwear and wraps his mouth around the organ that is freed as Light lowers his head again. It’s like an ever-rising cycle of pleasure, Light’s actions driving him on as his drive Light, their mouths and tongues indulging each other, increasing their fervor.

But he doesn’t want it to end like this, so when he feels like he’s beginning to lose control, he softly pushes Light away. Far from being irritated, Light sits up and pulls L into his lap, moving his mouth over L’s back and stroking him with one hand while he reaches blindly to the nightstand with the other. When he finally snags the bottle he’s looking for, he maneuvers L’s legs into a wider spread and begins preparing him. L moans and grips Light’s thighs for support. He always feels a bit wanton in this position but at the same time it’s really hard to care.

Light takes longer than he needs to, teases L with his fingers, driving him almost to the edge and then backing off until L utters something between a growl and a cry.

“Was there something else … you wanted?” taunts Light, managing to sound smug and breathless at the same time. L takes a moment to glare at him before turning around and straddling his lap. The smirk falls off Light’s face, his eyes wide with surprise. It might be comical if L wasn’t so nervous right now.

“Like this?” Light asks, a hint of disbelief in his voice. L nods as he clutches Light’s shoulders, eyes cast downward. Light puts his hand under L’s chin and tilts his head up, silently asking L to look at him. With some reluctance, L lifts his eyes to see Light gently smiling at him, that mysterious smile that manages to convey reassurance and contentment and excitement all at the same time.

Light pulls him forward to give him a chaste kiss, whispering, “Thank you” against his lips. It’s a little too much for L and he buries his head in the crook of Light’s neck, squeezing his eyes closed. Light merely holds him tightly, kissing a line down the side of his neck to his shoulder until he relaxes a little. Then he cups L’s bottom, lifting and positioning him with L’s help, and slowly pushes inside.

L’s raises his head and moans at the too-tight and hot sensation of Light sliding deeply into him, Light answering with, “ _God, Ryuuzaki_ ,” something which never fails to arouse L even further. Tentatively, he begins to move and, with Light’s hands on his hips guiding him, quickly establishes a rhythm that has both of them panting and groaning and clutching each other, lips desperately seeking whatever bit of flesh they can make contact with.

Then Light takes one of L’s hand and puts it on his own arousal.

“Let me … see you,” he presses and it should be too much but L’s mind is gone and everything is building and it’s so _hot_ …. He begins stroking himself in awkward time with their movements, catching glimpses of Light watching him with something like hunger as L’s eyes flutter open and closed. He forces them to stay open long enough to look into Light’s so that he can see … just gold and Light. Nothing else.

Relief and release swell in him and he cries out Light’s name as he comes, feeling Light falling with him. He collapses forward on Light and is wrapped in shaky arms as they breathe roughly against each other.

Quite a bit later they separate and flop down on the bed, taking a few more minutes to relax before getting up and moving stiffly around the room to make themselves presentable. Granted, the chain had been coming off more and more in their bedroom lately, but L still feels a little strange when he goes into the bathroom and Light isn’t automatically there by his side. The thought cools some of the pleasant after-glow.

It cools even further when he comes back into the bedroom and sits on the end of the bed to watch Light and realizes that something _is_ different. It wasn’t there a few minutes ago while they were having sex, he’s sure of it, but it’s there now as Light dresses, occasionally glancing over to smile at L. Part of him is closed off, L can see it now. Light is hiding some part of himself, some part that he wasn’t before. And part of L feels like he’s sinking.

“Are you coming down?” Light asks as he pulls a button-down shirt on over his black T-shirt, leaving it open.

L looks up with a half-hearted smile. “Yes. I’ll be down in a little while.” For a few moments Light stares at L, expression unreadable. Then he tilts L’s chin up and leans down for a long, chaste kiss. He smiles as he pulls away before turning and leaving without another word.

And L continues to sit on the end of the bed, feet dangling listlessly, staring down at nothing. He’s thinking, thinking furiously, but in the back of his mind. The rest is a blank.

At some point he gets up and starts walking, not down to the investigation room but up; and he only stops when he can go no further.

He is drenched almost instantly as he steps out onto the roof. Everything is grey – the sky, the rain, the city, the metal and concrete his unlaced and battered shoes are currently shuffling along as he approaches the safety railing that runs the perimeter. Within minutes his body is painfully icy and then blissfully numb while he stands and stares at the cell phone nestled in his palm.

It’s a simple thing to do, really. And it’s something he _should_ do because L is nothing if not thorough. Even though there have been no more killings, it would be an easy confirmation of innocence. Or an easy damnation. And there’s no reason he shouldn’t take the offensive, no reason he shouldn’t protect himself at the possible cost of Light. All he has to do is call Watari, set the gears in motion….

_Oh God_. He claps a hand to his mouth and doubles over, feeling like he’s going to vomit. _I can’t. I_ can’t _!_ It’s not because he’s afraid of what the answer _might_ be, it’s because he _knows_ what it _will_ be. And he just can’t sentence Light to death. He’d sooner die himself.

_I probably will_ , he thinks with a bitter chuckle. But it’s too late now. His body and heart sided with Light long ago, and his mind … his mind is still filled with the incessant ringing of that damn bell tolling hope. The hope that his mass-murdering lover might actually care about him enough, might actually _love_ him enough not to murder him, too.

L’s fist clenches around the phone as sudden anger swells and whether it’s directed at himself, Light or the whole situation, it’s maddening enough to have him cry out, “Damn it!” and hurdle the electronic device out into the grey miasma to fall to the featureless city below.

The anger ebbs as quickly as it swelled leaving him empty and sad. The silvery chime is still sounding but it’s so very faint now…. He supposes this is what completely giving up feels like. He wishes he could have held on to the feeling from this morning, the peace and the joy. No one had ever bothered to tell him love was like this. But then again, he is probably a special case.

Time passes and L becomes aware that Light is calling him. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing out here, but it’s obviously been long enough that Light felt the need to come and find him. Childishly, he pretends he can’t hear anything Light is saying – and it’s true that his voice is dim in the patter of the downpour but not so much that L’s perfectly able ears can’t make him out. But he’s feeling just a little miserable and he wants Light join in, too.

Light _does_ come closer and as they speak there is a distance far greater than the empty air between that separates them. L’s words to Light are cruel, but … he’s hurting and he needs Light to hurt, too. Or at least see if Light _will_ get hurt. Or angry, or upset, or anything at all. Unfortunately, he has only disappointment here as well as Light doesn’t rise to the bait, remains calm and reasonable in the face of L’s quiet digs, and eventually L gives that up, too, compliantly following Light back inside.

They find towels in one of the superfluous bathrooms and somewhat futilely attempt to dry off. L watches Light for a little while as he sits and works at his hair, captivated by both his movements and him in general. Feeling … sadness, guilt, longing, _something_ , he kneels in front of Light to dry his feet, remembering as he does all the times Light washed his so carefully and thoroughly without any expectation or want of thanks.

He almost flinches when Light begins drying his hair, not sure if the action is out of true kindness or pretence, doubt and hope warring sickeningly inside him. But he’ll never say no to Light’s touch, whatever he wants to give.

They dry as best they can and then stand as an odd, almost unbreakable silence descends.

“Light….” L tries, he really does, but as always his throat closes up and he can’t say what he wants to the most, what he really _should_ say. Instead, he meets Light’s eyes, putting everything he can’t speak into his own.

_I know you can read me well enough now, and I think you understand me. I might never be able to say it, but … I love you. And I know I shouldn’t ask when I can’t say it myself, but please … tell me, just once. I just want to hear it._

For a seemingly interminable moment Light stares back at him – then he steps close and lays his hand on L’s face.

“L,” he says quietly, “I do love you.” The words shoot through L’s core, shaking him as doubt and hope, cynicism and faith continue their vicious battle. Light moves closer still until there is no space between them and carefully lays his lips on L’s, and for a long time L forgets to breathe. It feels like their first kiss, surprising and staggering and amazing and intense and baffling.

When Light pulls away, he rests his head on L’s and whispers against his cheek.

“It’s alright. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me.” L didn’t believe it the first time Light said it and now … now it’s all he wants to do. His bell is still determinedly chiming, telling him to believe, telling him to hope. And L makes up his mind.

He steps back but takes Light’s hand, giving him a small smile which is returned with a squeeze. They walk together, L letting Light lead him wherever it is that he wants him to go, trusting and hoping that wherever it is they will still be together at the end.


	6. A Mon Seul Desir

You really are quite beautiful. Not a term most men would appreciate and I’m sure you wouldn’t either, but it’s the truth. You’re not handsome and I don’t think I could really call you attractive, although you _do_ attract me.

Your skin is ghostly pale, but all I notice is how smooth it seems. You’re too thin, but all I see when I look at you is lines of carefully-sculpted muscle. The shadows underneath bring out the glimmer and keenness in your eyes. Even your hair – if you _really_ tried it could probably be _more_ of a mess but it’s still so shiny and soft-looking like the feathers of some exotic bird. Your crazy, twitching toes, your long, spindly fingers … the pieces of you don’t seem to amount to much but when you put them together, when it’s _you_ …. That is where the beauty lies.

Of course I’ve never said this to you and I probably never will. Even if you believed I was speaking with any kind of sincerity you either wouldn’t care or you’d think I was attempting to sway you toward … _something_. Well, I can’t say you’d be wrong. But I wouldn’t be trying to divert your attention from this case as you’d undoubtedly suppose. I have no reason to do that.

You interest me. You’re like a puzzle box, with many more boxes inside, each more complicated than the last. I wonder what I would discover if I managed to figure them all out, crack open each layer. What lies at your center? Do _you_ even know? Do you truly understand what drives you? I’ll probably never find out but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.

I’ve been with you long enough now, worked with you, watched you and studied you for enough time to devise my approach. While I’m sure that the constant defensive posturing is an act, or at least _mostly_ an act, I’m also sure that you haven’t had much physical interaction. Really no surprise and it might work against me, but … I also think that you’re the type of person who would crave it once you got it. If it was done the right way. You have an easily-spoiled nature and I’m sure I can use that to my advantage. If I’m careful, don’t let you think about it too much, take it step by step….

It will be a game to me, I won’t deny that. But please believe that is not _all_ it will be. I don’t want a body to screw; I don’t want your obedience or submission (not entirely); I don’t want to _break_ you. I just want _you_. I want you to understand … surely you can feel it, too? That we belong to each other. That you are mine and I am yours. It’s so blindingly obvious – we suit each other in a way that no one else ever possibly could. I’m sure you realize this, too, although I very much doubt you’ve admitted it to yourself or even actively thought about it. But if I can make you realize, make you think about it … then maybe I can keep you. It’s all I want, the only thing.

Tonight will be the night. I’m sorry but I just don’t want to wait any longer. And you certainly won’t be expecting it. I’ve given you no indications what my thoughts have been about and you’ve grown relaxed in my presence, I can tell.

I can barely repress a smile as the anticipation builds in me, especially as I watch you at the wardrobe, water dripping down the lines of your elegant back, your wet hair framing your face in odd but appealing ways. If you flicked your eyes just an inch you would see me staring at you through the mirror – but you barely seem aware that I am even in the same room. Well, I will certainly be changing that.

Still toweling my hair, I open my mouth and casually ask,

“Where did you get that scar?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild reference in chapter titles to "La Dame a la licorne."
> 
> Originally written Dec. 2008


End file.
